Albion's Darkest Hour
by EyeMyst
Summary: Growing up listening to tales of King Arthur and Merlin from my granddad, I don't know whether or not to believe the existence of such a detailed legend! Is there a chance that it's all true?...And if it is, how was my granddad involved, if he was, he knew too much to be left out. Could I be involved? Or am I going insane...?


**A/N Discontinued, I have no idea what to do with this. If anyone wants to continue this fanfic PM me plz but i shall be doing no more with it.  
****EyeMyst**

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**Albion's Darkest Hour**

It started out just another family trip to Wales. Same old stuff really. Wet, depressing and boring!

I had to get away from my parents, they had met some friends and where talking about how nice the scenery looked, and other stuff similar to that. 'Adult subjects, you wouldn't understand!' It was amazing how often they said stuff like this. I'm 19 I'm not a child anymore! It doesn't matter I'm not interested in how much the rain pours, or how pretty a dead tree looks.

I went to the lake that I loved so much. My granddad, before he died, told me all kinds of stories revolving around this lake, one of which was that the little island in the center was called Avalon and was home to tiny fairy-like creatures which lived in a different world to us.

He told me all kinds of tales about King Arthur and his knights.

He had a different take on Merlin though. Most legends tell of Merlin being an OAP with a large beard pure white. However, my granddad tells of how Merlin was about the same age as Arthur, maybe a little younger than him.

But the tale he told made sense. I made him tell me over and over, about Morgana, Mordred and all the rest, it made me cry every time i listened to how the tale ended.

He reckoned that Arthur died on that very island, and he always told me how he'd take me there one time. He never did.

An old man was stood near me. He had a creaky old boat was staring at me.

He used to be a friend of my granddad and he always talked to me.

"Are you wishing to see the island?" He asked me in his steady old voice.

"I don't know, I'm just thinking." I smiled at him, I wanted to go yes but I didn't trust that boat. It looked like it'd fall apart if I sat in it.

"It's quite safe!" He said, seeming to be able to read my thoughts.

I walked over to the man.

I stared at the boat, this close it looked fine, no water, no holes, quite dry aswell it seemed as sturdy as any boat I had ever seen.

He helped me in. Then, he climbed into the boat, it didn't rock at all.

The boat took off, slowly drifting towards the centre of the lake.

"Its a natural current in the lake." He smiled. I never knew that lakes had currents, I was under the impression it was only rivers and maybe streams that had any form of current.

This man, he told me stories as well as my granddad, tales of every little adventure that King Arthur and Merlin had together. He even told it from Merlin's point of view, the little facts like what Merlin did when he went off on his own or how Arthur saw magic and dismissed it as luck or a trick of the light.

It was almost like magic how he told it exactly the same every time I had asked him.

The man always seemed more then he looked, he had that atmosphere, he seemed to create it, a feeling of overwhelming power.

We were in the middle now, the boat gently bumping into the island. I stepped out of the boat and turned to help the man out. I thought he might have difficulties getting out onto the uneven ground.

He accepted my help and swiftly got onto the bank.

I walked steadily to the middle of the bare island. It had always seemed more magical when my granddad talked about it.

I sat down, placing my elbows on my knees and stared into the shimmering water. Could this really be the magical island of which granddad spoke of? It seemed so...so...nondescript.

"Are you thinking about you're granddads tales? The stories he told you about King Arthur."

"Yes, how he told me that Arthur would rise again if Albion ever needed him again. How it's said that Merlin awaits his friend still. How my granddad believed it as though it were fact."

"What makes it fact?"

"I don't know. If there was a solid account of what happened. Some historic evidence that it happened. No one can live forever, so Merlin cannot be living among us waiting for Arthur's rise again. It's impossible!"

"If you dismiss it so why do you still think about the stories? Why do you not just forget about them?"

"Because i can't, I dismiss them then suddenly I think, 'but what if it were real?' and start thinking of them again."  
Something broke the water!  
Just a fish.

"If Arthur where to rise again why not in the wars? Why not WWI or WWII? Everyone needed help then."

"I don't have the answer."

"I just think that if he were going to rise again, it would have happened by now. People are just forgetting the stories now, and there's just too much deviation that no one knows whats the original tale anymore."  
Another break of the glass surface of the lake, this time no fish.  
A hand broke the surface.

The man, seemingly 50 years younger, jumped into the lake and ran out into the water. He grabbed the hand and helped whoever it belonged to out of the lake.

The sun glittered off wet armour. The red cloak floated across the disturbed surface.

Blond hair and blue eyes shone in the harsh light. but the clouds blotted out the sun. where was the light coming from?

The old man, who was no longer an old man, hugged the armoured figure in a friendly hello.

He was thin, the no longer old man, with raven hair and glittering blue eyes.

I was clearly dreaming, the stories had overcome my reality ad dragged me into the world of fiction.

I pinched myself. 'wake up!' I watched as the man led the armoured man to the island.

Arthur?!

"I knew you'd return!" The dark haired man spoke excitedly.

"I knew you'd wait! Merlin!"

Merlin!...


End file.
